Snails or “Thirty-Seven Gallons of Terror”

Swallowing hard, I caught the scream rising in my throat and replaced it with a terrified gasp.  From the vantage point on his green micro-fiber throne, Prince Luca opened one yellow eye and glared accusingly as I stepped backward.  Deciding I was in no real danger—and that my interruption of his sleep could be forgiven—he stretched and rolled onto his back before closing his eye again.

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How To Become an Accident(al) Farm Hand

Call it the butterfly effect.  Call it whatever you like; sometimes life’s seemingly insignificant twists and turns carry a big impact.  If you’d told me two years ago I’d be spending one day a week on a farm, I’d have said you’re crazy.  But accidents happen, and sometimes they result in pounds of tomatoes and enough sweet potatoes to last until spring.

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To Be Seen Amongst the Unseeing Millions

Ryan hesitated a moment as he felt the cold metal of the knob press against his palm.  Beyond the glass door he watched the sky—a perfect, dull, uniform grey—and wondered if he should go back downstairs for a jacket.  No, he needed to feel this.  He needed to feel something.  Bracing against the wind that awaited, he opened the door and stepped out of the cupola into the brisk afternoon.

• • •

The Siren Song of Nostalgia

Hey, have you met my friend Nostalgia?  She’s the one over there at the corner of the pool; the one with the pretty face and that sultry voice.  She likes to swim, and if you’re feeling kind of blue—hell, even if you’re feeling pretty great—she’ll invite you in for a dip.  She’s pretty persuasive, so if she starts talking to you, I hope you’ve got swim trunks on.

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Horseshoes in the Dark

The silhouette appeared against the cobalt sky for a brief moment before announcing its arrival with a muted thud on the grass.  A pair of smartphone flashlights flicked on, searching the lawn; there it was, embarrassingly far from the stake, even by our meager standards.

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